Treasured

"10,000 weight in gold
Never feels like treasure until you lose it all"

 - "10,000 Weight In Gold", by The Head And The Heart



None of us could have anticipated where we'd end up that day in early December: in a room full of about 200 prostitutes, listening to a health and safety presentation.


Every other week I go downtown with Desi, Hannah, and other friends to visit with and pray for women and transgender men in prostitution. That day, there were five of us going, one for the first time ever. We took a crowded bus downtown, squeezing past people to get off at the right stop. It's always such a relief to step onto the bus platform, freed from the many bodies being flung around by the seemingly manic bus driver.

Normally we go to several different streets and meet with the women. That day was different; Desi and Hannah wanted to visit a hostel where some of the women said they hold meetings, in order to ask if that location might be a good place to hold a Christmas party. We arrived at the hostel and entered a dimly-lit corridor which opened out onto a courtyard area. A woman greeted us with a finger to her lips; there was a meeting in progress and we needed to be quiet. Desi said we were there to inquire about use of space and the women brushed us off, saying all the rooms were in use.
"It's not for today, it's for a Christmas party in two weeks," Desi explained. "For the women who work on the streets here. We come visit them twice a month and we want to throw a small Christmas party for them."

The woman's demeanor shifted.
"All the women have a meeting here every thirty days, and today is the 30th," she stated. "They are all here right now," gesturing towards the courtyard. "Why don't you come in and invite them to the party in a little bit?"
"Oh we don't want to interrupt," Desi protested.
"No it's fine! It's just an information session, go on in!"
So she led us inside, all of us a bit anxious as to what we were getting into.

We made our way through the crowd and sat on a small step running around the edge of the courtyard. The room was packed. I estimated that there were about 200 women there. In the center of the space was a dry fountain decorated with red Christmas ornaments and ribbons of bright gold. Beside it stood a woman who stated that she was from the Ministry of Health. She was there giving a health and safety presentation. She encouraged the women to get tested regularly, to use specific safety measures, and to seek help when needed. She then went on to do a presentation with a condom and a banana - classic sex ed, along with a few colorful comments which woudn't be appropriate in a classroom. When finished, she turned to our group (earlier, one of our group, a blonde, had muttered, "I feel so white!" so we knew we stood out) and asked, "Where are you all from? I don't think I've seen you before."

Sweet Desi popped up and explained who we were.
"Some of you know us," she said, nodding towards certain women who had smiled and waved when we came in. She explained about the Christmas party and that it would be right here in two weeks.
"We just want you to know, we are not here to change you, we are here to share the love God has given all of us."
This remark was met with a hearty round of applause. Of course, we hope and pray that one day these women will be changed, thoroughly and completely. New work, new realizations that they are worth so much more, new experiences of grace to accept and share. No more thinking that all they can do is sell themselves. But for the moment, the women needed to simply hear love. They are belittled, mocked, regarded as the scum of society, and yet used by men every day. The shreds of pride they cling to needed to hear that we were there for them as they were. Change comes slowly. It can't be rushed.

When Desi sat down, two other women stood and announced that they were from a Catholic church and had brought a delicious meal of rice with chicken and vegetables to share. Desi looked at the rest of us and chirped, "Let's go help!" So we went to the back and helped serve the plates of rice and cups of juice. We served and served until it was gone.


Two weeks later, I was in the States but Desi, Hannah, and several others held a grand Christmas party there in the hostel. Around 150 women and men showed up, though they later confessed that they were afraid the party wouldn't actually happen. A Christmas party just for them seemed so unlikely. No one did things like that for them, ever. So when they saw my friends arriving with snacks and gifts, peeking out of the upstairs windows of the hostel, they jumped up and down for joy. There was worship, prayer, presents, and plenty of time to just say, "You matter, you are loved," to everyone.

When we go downtown, we never know just who or what we'll encounter. Sometimes it's someone who is mourning the death of their boyfriend, killed by a gang six months earlier. Sometimes it's someone whose eyes go blank when you ask them about their future dreams, saying, "I have none, it's too painful to dream," yet who will let us put our hands on them and pray. Sometimes it's someone who just needs to see a smiling friend wave to them from across the street, a friend who isn't in their line of work, hasn't known the terrible abuse of their past, yet comes just as a friend because God's love is bigger than we can ever grasp. Even on the streets and inside hostels which are brothels in disguise, God is there. He loves and treasures them so much. In whatever form, that's what we've encountered.